


The Obscurus Leaves New York

by Polywantsanother



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-25 21:51:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12045006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polywantsanother/pseuds/Polywantsanother
Summary: A wisp of the Obscurus that devastated New York and destroyed Credence has escaped. It follows a familiar face.It's an exploratory piece so I can't go into much detail without giving things away.





	The Obscurus Leaves New York

He was just a wisp. A wisp of fury and fear, but barely tangible.

He clung underneath the flap of fabric and shuddered when other things moved neared him. For a few days, only the fear was keeping the threads of rage from dissipating into the air.

He didn’t even know why he wanted to hold on.

Wanted.  _ Wanting _ .

With that new feeling, even if he didn’t know what it meant, it made him a little more firm.

He  _ wanted _ to be together. And to be here, underneath this flap of fabric.

Wanting gave him new things to experience. He could taste the air. It was wet, cold, salty, and metallic. These were all tastes he knew, somehow, and they pleased him.

Pleasure.

He was now a dark slug. He only knew that because of the other thing that lived under a different flap of fabric. The thing trilled in fear and annoyance at finding him here, but he could billow into smoke and gnash teeth.

The thing called him a slug.

_ He _ was a thing.

Soon after the other thing found him, the bigger thing found him.

“Who are you then?” The voice asked as the flap lifted. “It’s okay. You can come out.” Fear made him turn into airy threads, but wanting made him float out from under the flap.

“Ah.” The voice was surprised. And resigned. It was a voice that could be many things at once. He floated and contemplated in wanting.

Not wanting. Curiosity. He was a curious slug.

“Is that you?” The voice softened. “Credence?” 

Fear. Anger.  _ Hatred _ . He, the black slug, burst into piercing shards of smoke. He hissed.

“That’s a no then.” The voice sighed and a hand was raised. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you. You’re safe.” The voice sounded sad, though the words tasted like comfort. The black slug stopped being smoke and landed in the hand.

The hand and the voice were also one thing. There was a face with soft blue eyes that were also green. This was a thing of many things. The black slug also could be many things.

“My name is Newt.” The thing of many things said. The thing was a Newt.

The black slug wanted to say “I am the black slug,” but he didn’t have a mouth. Not a proper talking one.

The back slug twirled listlessly in circles above the Newt’s hand.

“I wish I could have made you safe earlier.” The Newt said, the voice was sad. Regretful.

The black slug knew regret. He sank onto the hand and didn’t move. The Newt thing sighed and put the hand close to the black slug’s flap. Slowly, the black slug floated to the coat and slithered under the flap.

“Be nice to Pickett okay? No more hissing at him.” The Newt voice said. The black slug did not respond. He sat quietly under the flap, heavy and blob-like.

Over more days, the Newt thing talked to him more. The black slug did not like being around the other things, so the Newt thing often had to find a quiet space to talk to him. But the Newt thing made sure to do so every day.

“So what should I call you?” The Newt voice asked idly. The Newt thing knew that he would not answer.

“You look like a proper newt you know. The slimy things. Lovely, but slimy. But still, I can’t very well call you Newt. I’m Newt. It would be far to confusing.” The Newt thing, the thing called Newt, chattered as he - Newt, not the black slug - looked out over the ocean.

This was another thing that had been named.

The other flap thing was a Pickett but also a Bowtruckle. 

Things were important if they had more than one name.

“How about Sally?” The black slug shattered and hissed in irritation. Newt laughed. “Not a girl I take it? How about…” Newt drifted as the black slug dripped back together.

“Acheron?” The name was crunchy and hard. The black slug liked it and hummed with pleasure. Newt took a finger and rubbed down the center of Acheron. Acheron continued to hum.

“I have never seen an Obscurus act so sentient before.” Newt murmured. Acheron felt fear, regret, anger, and sadness. He stopped humming and slinked back to the coat flap. Newt dropped his hands to the railing and sighed.

They did not talk for the rest of the day.

When Newt slept, Acheron talked with Pickett. He found out that there were two types of names. One was what a group of similar things were called and the other was what an individual was called.

Acheron had been confused because Newt had named him both Obscurus and Acheron and he didn’t know which one was his  _ name _ .

Pickett told him that  _ what _ he was, was an Obscurus, but  _ who  _ he was, was Acheron.

The thing he was speaking to was a Bowtruckle. The Bowtruckle he was speaking to was Pickett. Groups and individuals. Things that were other things.

Acheron did not know what Newt  _ was _ .

Newt, said Pickett, was a wizard. Which was also a type of human. 

Acheron knew both of those things. He had lived inside of a wizard that was a human.

Acheron knew many things from living inside of the wizard that was a human. But now he was not inside of the wizard that was human. Did the wizard that was human live inside of him?

Acheron did not leave the flap for many days. That made Newt sad and while Acheron felt more regret, he still did not emerge.

Finally, one day, they left the place that smelled like the ocean. They - Newt, Pickett, and Acheron - moved closer to other things that were human. There was lots of movement and it scared Acheron, so he twisted into the fold of the flap. This time he was on Pickett’s side of the coat, even though Pickett was in a pocket.

There were other voices, but they were none of them Newt’s voice so Acheron ignored them.

Panic.

Acheron felt himself dissipate and get caught in the threads of the coat. That made him panic more and he became smoke.

Confidence mixed with anger. Acheron pulled himself together.

He was Acheron, not smoke. He would not disappear.

He knew he used to be more and now he was less because the more had disappeared.

He wanted to be more.

That wanting felt hungry but also heavy. Things that were other things.

Acheron focused on being him.

When things were quiet again, Acheron felt the coat being hung up. This usually meant that Newt was going into that suitcase of his. This time, Acheron felt confidence and curiosity, not mixed together just both at the same time, and floated out from under the flap. Pickett always went with Newt and Acheron had been invited, but had never wanted to be around the other beasts.

This time he floated over to Newt’s head.

“Well hello Acheron. Ready to come out?” Newt said pleasantly. Newt was always pleasant to him, even when he was sad. Newt was never, cross. Definitely never angry or furious. Acheron wanted to be more pleasant. Those feelings were lighter than the other kind.

Acheron hummed and twisted about in the air. Newt blinked a bit before smiling.

“Would you like to come down too?” He asked and Acheron hummed. “That’s fine. Just stay close to me.” They - Acheron, Pickett, and Newt - stepped down into the suitcase. Acheron stayed close to Newt’s ear as the wizard walked around the small room filled with things that did not talk.

Acheron started to hum with Newt, which made the wizard stop. Acheron felt a little fear and he stopped too.

“Well isn’t that a neat trick!” Newt said and laughed. Acheron relaxed and went back to humming.

All three of them moved into the bigger sections in the suitcase. Plenty of beasts lived here, and Newt named them all. Both what they were and who they were.

None of them liked Acheron.

“Here, I want you to see this.” Newt said and set down the bags and bucket he had been carrying. As they walked, he also took of his gloves and wiped his hands on his pants.

They approached an orb of swirling black smoke. Red flecks shivered within the smoke as the blackness shoved against the orb that contained it.

“That is another Obscurus.” Newt said and Acheron floated out toward it. Fear, curiosity, and sadness. Acheron approached it with a hum. The smoke inside of the orb reacted and shot out against the surface of the orb.

RAGE. 

Acheron flew back to Newt, terrified. He was beginning to smoke a little himself. Newt cradled Acheron against his neck and made soothing noises.

“I’m sorry for frightening you Acheron. I just want to understand why you’re so different from her.” Newt said. His voice was sad and regretful again.

Acheron slid from between Newt’s fingers and took a place between the wizard and the other Obscurus. Then he shot red sparks.

Newt’s eyes widened.

“Was that,  _ Periculum _ ?” Newt held out his hands and Acheron floated back into them. “Can you do  _ magic _ Acheron?” Acheron hummed and Newt turned to walk back to the room filled with things that did not talk.

“I need to write to Tina.”

Acheron knew about Tina. And Jacob and Queenie and MACUSA and Graves - fury - and Grindlewald. And Credence.

Regret. Sorrow.

Newt had told him everything about New York and Acheron remembered somethings. He liked Tina. He hated Graves. He regretted Credence.

Acheron knew he had been the Obscurus inside of Credence. Credence was a human that was also an Obscurial. If it hadn’t been for Acheron, Credence would have been a wizard.

Whenever Newt mentioned anything about New York, it ultimately made Acheron feel badly and he sulked. Newt called it that, sulking. That was the name of an action that Acheron could do.

Acheron sulked.

There was a bit more travelling, and one day where Newt - afraid and serious - had told Acheron to stay hidden. There had been more voices and they talked a lot about MACUSA, Grindlewald, Graves, and The Obscurial. Newt did not say The Obscurial, the other voices did. Newt said Credence or Poor Boy.

Acheron felt sad but also, happy? Newt did not think he was a monster. He did not blame Acheron for losing Credence. 

Acheron wished he could be Credence.

RAGE. FEAR. SCREAMING. PAIN. STOP. STOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTO-

Newt held Acheron and made soothing noises again. It was nighttime, when Newt slept. He was not sleeping now. Now he was holding Acheron and making soothing noises.

Sadness. A heavy, clinging, sticky sadness. Depression. That was another thing that Acheron could be. He was depressed.

“I’m sorry you’re in pain.” Newt whispered. Acheron clung to the back of Newt’s ear, intoning sadness. “Don’t cry Acheron.”

Crying. That was a new thing Acheron could do.

Acheron wanted to be Credence but he did not want to feel those things again. It made him dissipate and fill with red sparks. 

He did not want to stop being Acheron. He did not want to leave Newt.

Newt began to spend more time writing. In order to write, first Newt had to cover his rooms with paper that had already been written on. Acheron floated around, looking at all of the pages. He would copy the shapes he saw drawn there and he even recognized some of the beasts from the suitcase. He shaped himself like Pickett but the Bowtruckle did not like that and made a rude noise.

Acheron knew it was rude because Newt said so.

Newt talked to Acheron a lot and Acheron was curious. When Newt got letters, the wizard often read some of them aloud. A few were from other wizards that Newt had asked questions of. Some were from people who were also fans. Once, Newt was asked to go to a place called Hogwarts but Newt declined. He said he would have been unable to take Acheron so he didn’t want to go.

Newt talked to Acheron about Hogwarts. There were things that a wizard - or witch - could be called Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins. Newt had been a wizard that was also a human that was also a Hufflepuff. Acheron wondered what he would be.

Hogwarts was a school. It was a placed where humans who were wizards or witches - Acheron did not understand the difference between those two things but they were apparently different - could go to learn magic. When Newt said magic, Acheron burst out red sparks and Newt chuckled.

“Yes, that kind of thing. You would have gone to Ilvermorny though I guess. Hogwarts is better. I think you’d unfortunately have been a Gryffindor though. Credence was very brave.” Acheron shuddered. He was not Credence but had been Credence. Newt saw him shuddering and he frowned.

“It’s okay to be upset. But not everyone can be a Hufflepuff.” He said. Acheron stopped. That was a joke. Acheron had not been upset about the house, but about not being Credence. Newt knew that, but pretended not to, which made it a joke.

Acheron hummed in pleasure.

When Newt was writing, Acheron watched him. Words came out of a quill but were made of ink. The ink was shiny and black, like Acheron.

Acheron went into the ink and came back out. He was soaked in it, holding it to him in the same way he held himself together.

He went to the paper and wrote.

“I…” Newt started but stopped abruptly as Acheron continued.

_ I am an Obscurus who is Acheron who used to be Credence. _

“Acheron,” Newt started as Acheron floated back over to the inkpot. “I don’t think you’re an Obscurus.”

Acheron went back to the paper.

_ I am Acheron. _

“Yes but,  _ what _ are you?”

Acheron paused as he thought.

_ I am a wizard that is not human who is called Acheron. _

“Do you want to be a wizard Acheron?”

_ I  _ am  _ a wizard. _ Acheron paused as he thought again.  _ I want to be with Newt. _

Fondness. Happiness. Wanting. Pleasure.

“Well I want to be with you too.” He spoke with friendliness.

_ No. Like Tina. _ Acheron went back to the inkpot. Newt sputtered and Acheron looked up at him. The wizard was blushing. Acheron grabbed more ink and went back to the paper.

_ I am fond of you. _

Newt sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair.

“Credence?” He asked, hand still locked in the tangles of his hair. Acheron spiked up in annoyance.

_ ACHERON _ . 

“Yes but, you’re conscious. You, you bonded with Credence’s consciousness. You are also Credence.” 

FEAR.

Ink splurted over the page as Acheron felt himself slipping away.

He was Acheron.

RAGE. PAIN.

He did not want to be hurt. Credence was a thing that would be hurt. Acheron flew back to the ink pot, knocking it over. Ink spilled over the table and he dashed himself in it.

_ RAGE. PAIN. STOP. MAKE IT STOP. IT HURTS. IT HURTS. IT HURTSIT H URTS I T HURTSITHHURTSIIIITTHURRSSSHUR _

Newt grabbed Acheron, smearing ink over the skin of his hands.

“Credence, it’s okay.” He said and made the soothing noises. Acheron screamed and cried as he writhed in Newt’s hands.

“No one is going to hurt you. Tina is fond of you. I am fond of you. We would never hurt you.”

Tina. She saved him from the woman who was human and cruel. Tina tried to protect him from Graves.

Newt had been on the train tracks and made soothing noises. Newt had tried to protect him from Graves.

They had screamed when Acheron had lost the more. When he had lost Credence.

Ink and smoke dripped down from Newt’s hands as Acheron cried.

“I know it hurts right now, but you can heal Credence. I can help you heal. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.” Newt tried to grab at the dripping strands of Acheron.

Acheron who was once Credence.

Acheron who had Credence’s pain.

Acheron had Credence.

Acheron could give Credence back.

The smoke and ink dribbled upward and outward, trailing lines of an amorphous shape. Newt slid from his chair, kneeling on the floor, to hold onto the body. The black slimy body.

The black slimy body melted.

A head rested on Newt’s shoulder. A back felt the tightness of Newt’s arms around it. A throat tightened as cries ripped out of it. A face felt hot and wet. Hands dug into the fabric he had once hid against.

“Newt, it hurts so much.”

“I know Credence, I know. It’s okay, I’m here. I won’t leave you.” Newt murmured and hugged the body closer to him.

The body was a human. The human was a wizard. The wizard was called Credence.

“I can only be Credence for you and Tina.” Credence sobbed out and pressed his face into Newt’s neck. He clung onto the other man as tightly as he had clung to himself when he was smoke.

“Thank you Credence.”

“God, it hurts so much.” 

“It will get better.”

“Don’t leave me Newt.”

“Hush. Of course I won’t leave you.” Newt moved one of his hands to stroke Credence’s hair. “You’re one of my beasties.” 

Credence took in a breath.

That was a joke. 

Credence smiled and let out a laugh that was almost a sob. He could almost hear Newt’s smile in his ear.

“I’m not living in the suitcase.”

“I wouldn’t have it.” Newt paused but still stroked Credence’s hair. “But I do need to get you a pair of pants.”


End file.
